“Yes, yes,” said the Doctor, “I want to hear all about it. I have foreborne to question you, though I realized there was something behind it which in good time you would explain. Fortunately now, we are assured that Deering is out of danger. The doctor holds out some small hope for poor Finch, but it will be a tough pull.”
“Yes, I fear so. I hope, I hope deeply that he will recover. I am relieved to know that Deering is better.” He paused for a moment, as though he could scarcely bring himself to say what was on his mind. “Doctor Forester, I have come to-night not only to give you an explanation but to make a confession.”
“Yes,” said the Head in a sympathetic tone.
“I have always tried, sir, to do my duty in this school according to my light.”
“Yes,” said Doctor Forester, “I believe that, my friend.”
“But my light, sir, has often,—always, I fear, been a poor one.”
“Ah,” interposed the older man, “who of us would dare say otherwise? We all fall short, every one.”
“Possibly—but all are not too proud, as I have been, to acknowledge it. I have never acknowledged it, sir, until to-night—not even to myself.” He paused again, to continue presently, as he shaded his face with his hand, “I will not go into details, but I want to put it boldly, baldly. I have been hard, hard to the degree of cruelty, on that poor boy who is lying now in the delirium of a dangerous fever. God forgive me!... I disapproved, sir, of your taking him here, and though, even now, I cannot say that I think you were wise in that——”
“Alas, no!” interrupted the Head Master, “not if we are to judge by the immediate results. But I think I see deeper....”